Nirnaeth Arnoediad Relived
by lothinielflowermaiden
Summary: A novelization of a roleplaying game, set early in the Fourth Age. A new enemy has arisen, and people must find out who he is in order to defeat him. Please review.
1. Meeting in the Forest

Author's note, and disclaimer. This is the novelization for a roleplaying game from Yahoo Clubs. Right now, the game is just getting starting, and this chapter is two years before the main story, about the first meeting between two of the characters. I'm putting in the novelization as a bit of exposition. Things will get more interesting once the story gets going. I do own one of these characters, Lothiniel, in case you can't tell that from my penname, which is also one of my Yahoo! Profiles. The character of Elrelad belongs to another club member, who uses the screen name Elrelad. The title for the story was thought up by Elrelad, and should become clear further into the story. And now, without further ado, the first chapter to Nirnaeth Arnoediad Relived.  
  
  
Meeting in the Forest  
  
(Two years before the main story.)  
  
Lothiniel wondered around Mirkwood, trying to forget the discussion she had just had with her father, Nithrar. Lately there had been rumors about the possibility of some new evil in the land, and Lothiniel wanted to go and see if she could find out anything about it. But her father had refused to allow her to, saying she was still too young.  
"I'm not too young," she had insisted, but her father would not listen. She knew he was afraid of losing her, like he had lost her mother, although she did not know for sure how her mother had died. It was like there was some big secret about her mother, and Lothiniel wondered what it could be.  
Now, though, she wondered around Mirkwood, trying to forget the discussion with her father, and trying as well to forget the questions she was beginning to have about her mother.   
Elrelad sat quietly on a log near his home in Mirkwood. A fair Elven maid was wandering aimlessly. He could see pain in her face. Apparently she was troubled deeply by something. He thought to say something, but rather than doing so he waited for her to notice him.  
Lothiniel looked around, and saw someone watching her. An Elf that she had never seen before was sitting on a log nearby. She looked away, briefly, trying to compose her face to hide the fact that was upset about something, and then turned back to the other. "Hello," she said, a little shyly, as she did not know him.  
Elrelad stood and bowed before her. Taking her hand gently, he kissed it, as was custom. "Hello fair child! What troubles you on this lightest of days, made brighter by your presence?"  
"My father," Lothiniel said after a few moments. "He will not listen to me, about anything. I have heard rumors that there might be another evil, coming to power, and I asked to find out what was going on. But my father said I was too young." She realized she had probably said more than he wanted to know, and stopped talking, blushing slightly, embarrassed at having said too much.  
Elrelad nodded, "There IS much trouble in this world, and a new dark power does arise, your father may be right... but you are strong of mind and will, or you would not be here."  
Lothiniel was confused by that. He had made it sound like they were in some kind of special place. "I don't know what you mean by that last," she said. "As far as I know, I am in Mirkwood, which has been my home all my life."  
"Yes, you are in the Greenwood. I mean to say, that you would not have left your fathers judgement without your strong will. You would not be HERE, if fate had not given you that strength of mind."  
"Oh," Lothiniel said. She was quiet for a minute. "There's more to it than just the way he thinks I can't do anything on my own," she said, after a few moments. "He's keeping something from me." She was mainly thinking out loud, when she said this last sentence. Then she turned her attention to the other. "I'm sorry, sir. I have been talking to you, and I have not even thought to ask your name."  
Elrelad smiled, "I have many names, but you may call me Elrelad. And you, dear child? What is yours?"  
"My name is Lothiniel," she said. "I am pleased to meet you, Elrelad."  
"And so am I! Please, have a seat and we will talk" The log was actually a fair bench carved so nicely as to look very much like a real tree.  
Lothiniel sat down by Elrelad. She couldn't really think of much to say. Finally, without really think ahead of time, she said, "The fact that he doesn't trust me, isn't the only thing I'm upset with my father about. He won't tell me anything about my mother, not even her name. I just know that she died soon after I was born."  
Elrelad sighed softly. "You are set into a well worn path aren't you? Everyone should know from whom they were given life."  
"I don't even know for sure how she died, but I think that's the reason for the secret."  
"I cannot understand how a father can keep such a secret from his child. I cannot judge him for I do not know him, but he truly does not sound honest."  
"I don't know, though. I have an older brother and sister, and they don't say anything about her either, and they'd have to know something, at least."  
Elrelad became silent in thought...   
"I see you are already plagued with troubles though you have not even seen the rest of the world."  
"Yes, I suppose. But maybe that's why I want to get away from here. Especially with these rumors. I want to help out, because I really was too young to help five years ago."  
Elrelad nodded. "Not much is known of this new evil, and the rumors have already spread quickly. A Wizard he is believed to be, though none have knowingly seen him. They say he disguises himself as a commoner."  
"Then he could be anywhere," Lothiniel said. She still felt the desire to go and learn something definite about this evil, but knew that she would not defy her father, about that. She would try to get him to change his mind, first.  
"I deem you must settle your differences with your father first. Then you will be free to travel, free to live, and to learn." Elrelad smiled and stood.  
Lothiniel smiled. "Thank you, Elrelad. I shall return to my home now, and try to talk to my father." She stood and turned to walk off. Then, she stopped, and turned back. "Maybe I'll see you again, sometime," she said, and ran off back towards her home.  



	2. Quenture and Toketee

Note and disclaimer: This chapter was written by two other members of the role-playing game; Toketee7 and Quenture_Sindarusce. The poems in this chapter come from One Hundred Best Poems for Boys and Girls, and The Young Folks' Treasury. I own nothing in this chapter. Elrelad helped with the editing of this chapter to prepare it for uploading. And, now, without further ado, the next chapter. Locations in the story, as well as all recognizable names of people or events mentioned in the tale, were created by J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  
Chapter Two  
Quenture and Toketee  
  
"Dark brown is the river,   
Golden is the sand,  
It flows along forever,   
With trees on either hand."  
  
A crystal voice filled the woods with a ribbon of song, rising and falling to the music of the stream. Sadness blended with joy, in an unexplainable way.   
  
"Green leaves are floating,  
Castles of the foam,  
Boats of mine a-boating-  
When will all come home?"   
  
Sitting beside the Mering Stream a dark haired-maid sang, scattering the leaves and petals of a yellow flower into the Mering's swift flow.   
  
"On goes the river,  
Out past the mill,  
Away down the valley,  
Away down the hill."   
  
At her side a horse docilely grazed, happy and content in his mistress's voice. Birds alighted on his back and shoulders, a rabbit nestled in her lap.   
  
"Away goes the river,  
A hundred miles or more,  
Other elfin children  
I charge you, bring my boats ashore."   
  
When the song ended, the woods returned to their habitual calm. Toketee called to Chevaux, and obediently he came. Plucking another yellow flower from the lawn beside her, she placed it behind the buckskin's ear. With the rabbit still in her arms she rose and entered the shadowy eaves of the forest.  
Calling to Chevaux, Toketee wandered into the shade of Firien. Her step falling gently on the soft, mossy earth. The forest was still damp and shimmering with the early morning's crystal dewfall. Chevaux whickered softly as Toketee stroked his soft muzzle as they made their way through the wood. "Shall we go down to Halifirien today My Love?" she asked the horse, her brows furrowed in a comical fashion when she addressed the horse. Chevaux nodded furiously and stamped a foot as if in agreement.   
Toketee laughed lightly, her voice lilting and tumbling like the waters of the Mering, which flowed on only a few paces behind them. She knew Chevaux favored the oats at the inn where she traditionally stopped at on her way through the town.  
"I'm sorry dear, but I doubt we will stop at the inn today, although perhaps we may lodge there for the night, if we travel too slowly- and if you ask very nicely."  
Chevaux let out a mighty whuffle and stamped again. Toketee laughed again. "If you really insist, I'll think on it." She turned and led him on through the woods for apiece, halted, turned, and leapt lightly onto his back. He turned and cut his way through the green trees down toward the Great West Road.   
  
Quenture rode at a fine pace on the Great West Road, driving Galen, her stallion, on and petting the furry head of Yulme, her cat, as he rode in a basket beside her. She paused suddenly as a horse and rider emerged from the trees nearby.  
"Greetings, friend, and well met. My name is Quenture Sindarusce, and this is Galen and Yulme. What brings you to travel on this road?"   
Toketee called Chevaux to a cautious halt. For a moment she sat on his back, uncertain if she waned to reply to the surprise visitor.  
Quenture smiled at the girl's hesitation. "That's a beautiful animal you have there."   
"Hello Quenture," she said at length. "This is Chevaux. He is my faithful friend through many adventures."  
Quenture kept smiling. "Well, now I know his name, but what is yours? Don't worry, I don't kill people that are so polite and ride such fine horses, and anyone that calls themselves an adventurer automatically gets the benefit of the doubt. I'm one myself, you could say."  
Toketee's brows furrowed again in their comical fashion, and then she smiled. "I did not think you would kill me. Thank you for admiring my old friend so kindly. My name is Toketee to some, and to others it is another, but you may call me Toketee, for now."  
Quenture nodded to her, "Thank you for your name, my friend. I know it is a fine gift in itself, one of trust, and not easily parted with. What brings you to travel on this road? I would have you ride with me awhile and we could speak at length, if you'd like. It has been a week since I spoke to anyone."  
"Chevaux and I travel to Halifirien, and perhaps on the way there I may explain to you the reason why."  
Quenture spurred Galen into a slow walk and said over her shoulder, "That sounds like a fine idea. I think I'll join you in going to Halifirien, as I've nothing better to do. I'm just wandering, at this point."  
"I know that feeling well." Toketee murmured just softly enough that she hoped Quenture would not have heard. She urged Chevaux to follow along. "Why do you wander?" she asked.  
Quenture shrugged. "Because I have no home save the one I cannot return to, and no purpose save the one I avoid." A taut edge in her voice warned against further following of this line of conversation.  
Toketee nodded. Fully she understood the implication of Quenture's response, and wisely made no further comment. Living herself with similar mystery, which she could disclose, to no one. "Shall we race?" she asked brightly. "I know these woods well, and about two miles from here there is a large stone that overhangs the path. We could run our animals to there, and that would remove the night's boredom from their legs."  
Quenture grinned happily. "Sure! But I warn you, Galen is bred from the steeds of Rohan, and..." Quenture paused, then shrugged, "I might as well tell you. He was raised to be a mount for a Ringwraith, but he wasn't mean enough. He's still magnificent, though."  
Toketee paused for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. Swallowing the misgiving that dared her to break away from the large black and his rider. Her hand moved as if to block a blow from above, the terrible memory haunted her still. Glancing above, the blue sky and feathery clouds smiled down at her, and so the compulsion turned to a merry wave up to the sky. She laughed, and turned to Quenture once again. "Do you want a head start?" she asked.  
Quenture laughed back. "That's all right, but thank you for the offer. You and I aren't that old, are we Galen?" Quenture had not missed the reaction to her words, but the reaction did not surprise her. It was, if anything, milder than she expected, but she was thankful for the lack of following questions.   
"Come up next to me, and say 'Go' when you're ready!"   
Toketee giggled again. She urged Chevaux to Galen's side and shouted, "GO!" Chevaux needed no urging. He fully understood and made a fast break away, glorying in the race, his long black mane and tail streaming out behind his golden body. Toketee simply clung to his back and let him run. After all, running was his favorite hobby.  
Quenture spurred Galen on, laughing wildly as he matched Chevaux's pace. Suddenly and without warning, Galen let out a shrieking whinny and pushed hard into the horse by his side. He snapped at Chevaux's neck savagely and Quenture drew up suddenly, shouting at him and yanking on his reigns. Yulme was meowing angrily, and Quenture was breathing hard, near tears.   
Chevaux screamed and froze. Toketee glanced back at Quenture and the black, terror etched on her face. For a fleeting moment, she saw the rider as she had seen another once before, panting, or snuffling loudly, the black stallion beneath threatening and pawing. She shut her eyes, and tried to erase the image, but Chevaux tore off, nearly leaving her to hang suspended in the air. Instinctively she clung to his mane as she had done before, and on he ran, the gash in his neck oozing blood on her white skin, and blowing into her eyes.  
Quenture was furious. "Galen! How could you do such a thing? Toketee, wait!" Quenture dismounted and tied Galen to a nearby tree, then walked down the road after the galloping horse and rider. Perhaps if she approached without Galen, some trust could be regained. Idiot horse. Why did he have to do such a thing? Now the girl would be convinced she was dangerous...she'd had a bad time of it before with the Ringwraiths...this wouldn't help the establishment of trust...  
Toketee's eyes stung, the wind whistled loudly, and Quenture may have shouted, but when she looked back the world was stained red, and her own hair impaired her sight. She turned back and wrapped her short arms around Chevaux's neck, trying to calm him. "Easy my love, easy. Galen is not a bad one. Nor is his mistress. Easy...easy.... Calm my dear, calm..." Softly she began to murmur the tune she so long ago had started to sing for him. The words flowing softly into his ears.   
Quenture stood miserably in the road, then turned and yelled at Galen again. "Stupid horse! I told her you weren't mean! Now how do I seem? Why'd I ever take you with me when I ran?"  
Softly Toketee continued to sing, her voice barely rising above the whistling of the wind.   
  
"The night will never stay,  
The night will still go by,  
though with a million stars  
you pin it to the sky  
though you bind it with the blowing wind   
and buckle it with the moon  
And buckle it with the moon,  
the night will slip away  
Like sorrow or a tune."  
  
Chevaux's pace slowed, and he whickered as if in apology. Toketee slipped to the earth, and planted herself before him.   
Quenture began to approach slowly. "Toketee?" She said softly, not wanting to startle the girl.  
"Hello..." she replied shyly. She stepped to the left of Chevaux, so he stood between herself and Quenture- just in case, though she doubted Quenture meant to further molest her.   
Quenture looked upset and ashamed. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea he'd do that--he's never done anything like that before. I swear he didn't make the cut for the Nazgul. He was in the stables waiting to be made into stew for the Orcs...I had to take him. I never meant to hurt you, or your beautiful horse. I have some herbs and bandages. Can I help you with him?"  
"No, no..." Toketee shuddered as she passed a hand over the wound. It looked worse than she had expected. "Well, perhaps yes. Your horse has wonderful teeth." She tried to sound lighthearted, but seeing Quenture's face, she knew it was useless to try and cheer her, unless it was by showing that her trust was not entirely lost.  
Quenture began to dress his wounds, speaking to him in calming Quenya. He whickered, but stayed still as she finished putting salve on and bandaging. "There, it won't bleed now, and will heal quickly. Oh, Toketee, I'm so sorry!"  
"We've had some frightening experiences before with black horses...But he'll be alright. Might be a little jumpy for a while...." She shook her head, and wrapped an arm around the horse's neck. "It wasn't your fault-" She began, but her voice broke. "Yes Quenture. It'll be alright." She finally said. "Shall we return to your horse? He probably should not be left back there, alone..." again her voice trailed into silence.   
Angrily, Quenture said, "I suppose, but I'm furious with him. I feel so terrible about any past experiences you've had...I developed the breed for Sauron and trained them, so I've got cause to feel terrible." With that, Quenture turned and walked back over towards Galen.  
Dumbfounded, Toketee gazed after Quenture. How could she have ever been entangled with the Dark Lord? So many of Middle Earth's people carried so many mysteries, so may secrets. She fondled the silver chain around her neck and smiled faintly. She mounted Chevaux, and urged him slowly to follow Quenture. He was reluctant, but obeyed.  
Quenture put Yulme in his basket and fastened his collar to the lead tied to the basket. She mounted Galen, still hissing at him, and turned to face Toketee. Smiling wanly at her, she said, "I'm sure you have many questions, and I don't blame you. For the insult to your horse and to you, I owe you more of my story, I think, although I do not wish to bore you."  
"You would not bore me, though, you do not owe me anything, Quenture. You dressed his wound beautifully, and I hold nothing against you, or Galen. Some secrets are better ignored and unspoken until the time is ripe to tell them." She smiled, and turned to lead the way down to Halifirien.  
Quenture smiled. "Thank you for your understanding. I think I'd like to tell you some of it, though. It has been a long time since I could share my pain with anyone." She started to follow Toketee, keeping well enough away from her and her horse, still not trusting Galen.  
"Very well. If it would help you, you can gnaw on my ear as much as you like-- though I may yelp a little if you bite too hard." She laughed, and glanced to see if Quenture was yet able to laugh.  
Quenture lightened up and laughed a bit. "My story is just one of bad timing and bad choices, I suppose. Just worse than the other's. I'll be as brief as possible, and then you can choose to trust me or not.   
Quenture let out a sigh. "I am very old, dear. I'm Calaquendi, my father was Ingwe...that'll date a girl quicker than anything. Galadriel and I played with dolls together, before we grew up and went our ever-so-separate ways. Not that she was the Valar's darling, either, for her choices..." Quenture got a far off look in her eyes.   
"Anyway, I was more of a...handpicked rebel, you might say. When the Vanyar were living in the light of the two trees, I was very young, the equivalent of, I suppose, a human teenager. I was very much in love with a fine Vanyar man named Pityon and he with me. We were going to marry and dwell in that perfect light forever. All of my people had silly plans like that. That all changed, of course, when Melkor began to move among the elves.  
"We Vanyar were too preoccupied with ourselves to listen much to his sweet tongue and gentle ways...to jump ahead a bit...well, Strider, my theory is that I was born more evil than most are born. We're all born evil, you know...just depends on whether we decide to rise above it or not. I just had a harder time with the rising, I suppose. I was a stubborn, spirited elven princess with a deep vein of bothersome evil, and I was an easy target, I suppose. So one day when I was alone in the forest, I had a surprise visitor. He was a terribly handsome elf with black hair, and black eyes, and white skin. I think I knew who he was immediately, and the fact that I didn't turn and leave right then is further proof of my bad nature.  
"He smiled and said, 'Hello, Quenture. I'm so glad to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you, you see.'   
"I asked him 'Where is it that you've heard about me from?'   
"He answered, 'I've heard your name whispered on the wind that rushes past my door at midnight.'   
"I smiled arrogantly and said, 'And what does the wind tell you, friend?'   
"He smiled back and said, 'It tells me that you are both strong and beautiful, full of wiles and useful to my purposes, and it tells me that you will serve me well, both now and in the future.'"   
She took a deep breath and continued. "I began to say that I would serve no one, when he interrupted me and said, 'You will do as I say, Quenture Sindarusce.'   
"I was furious, of course, and said, 'Or you will do what, Melkor?'   
"He was not surprised that I knew him, of course. He shrugged. 'I make no threats, nor do I make any promises. You are not one to be swayed by either, and there is no greed in you that I can play upon save one--the greed for leaving this cage, this glimmering Paradise, and seeing if the stupid light of those two trees is really all there is to immortality. You're bored, Quenture, and all the light and life in all the ages won't stop that. Pityon won't stop it, either. You love him, yes, but he can't understand your boredom.'   
"I was entranced by him, his power, his handsome closeness, and the way he knew my innermost thoughts. It seemed so true, everything he said. I was bored...immortality of singing happy little songs and basking in the light of those trees seemed unbearable.   
"I had a great desire in me to kill and cause fear, one that I hardly allowed myself to recognize, one that was unheard of among my people at such a time and place. Pityon I loved, but he was perfectly content, and some days I longed to scream at him, to try to wake him from the trance that everyone seemed to be in. Sometimes I wonder if what Melkor did was really for the worst, Toketee. So many have suffered, but I swear that is what it was before he came, a trance. The Valar kept us almost as mute, pretty pets...but now I'm blaspheming, not that I haven't done that before.   
"Well," Quenture continued, "Melkor came very close to me and said, 'I can see inside you, Quenture, and I take back what I said. I will make one promise. You'll enjoy it, what I have you do for me. It is in your nature to enjoy it.' He kissed me then--odd, isn't it, that you're sitting here with a woman that Melkor kissed? It gets odder, I think...he kissed me on the lips, and I don't remember how long I stood there like a ninny and got kissed, because I had this marvelous rushing feeling in my skull. I think it was his evil bringing mine to the surface, actually, not that it matters. He pulled away then, and smiled and said, 'Good girl. Go home and say goodbye. You're leaving with the Noldor.' Then he turned and melted into the forest. This was when the Noldor rebelled, you see. They were leaving, and the Valar had made it clear that whoever left was gone for good, and they oughtn't to expect any help, either. So I went home and told my father and mother where I was going.   
"I told them I was going because I was bored and wanted adventure, which was partially true. They cried at first and tried to convince me to stay, but turned stony hearts to me when I finally made it clear I meant to go. Then I went to Pityon. He knew my reasons for going, at least the ones I was going to use as excuses, and he also knew that they weren't enough to make me go. He asked why I was going, really, and I said to him, 'There are other places I must go and other people I must be with, Pityon. It is written in my blood and on my face, and you know it as well as I.' Pityon said nothing to deter me, because he knew that what I said was true, even if he didn't know why I said it at this particular time.   
"Pityon simply said goodbye to me, and wished me luck, and promised me all his love until the end of forever. He told me that he would be waiting for me when I came back, a ridiculous thought, as I could never go back, and we both knew it. I made no promises to Pityon, and I hate myself for that to this day. I think, truly, that it was the most evil thing I have ever done. I simply embraced him and left. I didn't even kiss him, my Pityon."   
Quenture paused, trying to regain control over her shaking voice, shamed by the tears on her face.   
Quenture continued, "So I left with the Noldor. I was there for the slaughter of the Teleri, and the battles, all of them. I was there for everything. The long years of suffering in Middle Earth, forsaken along with the Noldor.   
"They were the worst years for the elves, I think, those in Middle Earth, but not the worst for me. Those were yet to come. Melkor left me alone, entirely alone. He never gave me one order, never told me one thing. In fact, I never spoke to him again, and only saw him once more, at the battlefield during the Great Battle, when the shape of everything was changed forever. Pityon was among the Vanyar that had come to fight. I saw him, only once, before we were swept apart by the battle, but he did not see me. Just as well, I suppose. He went back to Valinor, then, and that's where he is to this day, waiting for the evil woman that made no promises to him, the poor fool. And I'm no better, thinking I'll go back to him again, someday."  
Quenture laughed then, a barking laugh full of pain and self-mocking. "I wandered. I put in time everywhere. From Numenor, Rivendell, Mirkwood, and Lothlorien: I know people just about everywhere. Those many years of wandering will just about assure you of that. I knew people from those dark years...Galadriel and Celeborn, Elrond...and I met people as they happened. But I'm not surprised that no one mentions me. I've always been the odd one out. No one really knew why I had left Valinor, or what I was doing, or where I fit in to the scheme of things. The others have homes and grand titles and are well respected here, but I've always been the poor relation, I suppose you could say. I don't blame them, their fight was never really my own, even if I did fight it.   
"I'm Vanyar, you see...there was a bigger gap between Vanyar and everyone else than the old stories detail. I'm not especially close to any of them, anyway. I prefer the company of mortals, who don't require much commitment on my part. Told you I was evil...anyway, if any of them knew what I've really been doing the last century or so, I'd be killed on sight rather than politely given the worse of the two guest rooms, if you know what I mean.  
"Well, after Melkor was taken care of, I thought I was pretty much free. Didn't have a master anymore, per-se, even though he seemed to have forgotten about me. I really thought I had heard the last of it. I breathed easier, then, comforting, I suppose that I wasn't sorry Melkor hadn't used me as a tool of evil.   
"But all he cared about was evil, and he was cunning and far-sighted. Even if he wasn't there to enjoy it, he wanted to insure lots of evil left behind. There was Sauron, of course...I think you know that. And I was apparently on the omnipotent evil inventory sheet that Melkor left behind for Sauron, part of an everlasting chain of contingencies and extra chances at screwing up life for everyone else alive. Now, pardon me if I seem to get off the subject for a few minutes, but this is recent history now, so I'll be more detailed. Recent histories meaning the last three hundred years, you understand. About three hundred years ago, I was bathing in a forest pool when this idiot dwarf who couldn't have been much older than the human equivalent of 20-something wandered into view.   
"He saw me and stopped dead in his tracks, jaw nearly on the ground. I was in a bad mood that day, and I'm a fairly modest person anyway, so I was out of the pool, cloaked, and holding a dagger to his throat before he could blink more than twice. He started stammering apologies and was just so sincere and so in awe of this strange elven woman, that I knew I had to either kill him right there or love him until he died, and for some reason I chose the later. I married him and he endured great ridicule from his family and friends, but they eventually shut up on account of my temper and sword, and I made him deliriously happy until he died, and he did the same for me. A dwarf, can you believe it?   
"He gave me the happiest years of my life since I'd realized I was bored in Valinor, the happiest years hands down. If he hadn't made me so happy, I'd have been downright ashamed of loving a dwarf, but it's too late now. When he died, about a hundred years ago, I started wandering again. I eventually wandered to Rohan and took up with this absolutely gorgeous horse-breeder there. That man was...."   
Quenture trailed off, stopped completely, and was silent for several moments. She then cleared her throat loudly and started again. "Never mind. But we had a fine few years, and I learned a lot about horses. Then one night we had a terrible fight, not the first, as our relationship was shallow to the point of banality...no, wait, it was banal...  
"Anyway, I took his finest horse, a great black breeding male, and rode away. I was back the next day, ready to forgive and forget, but I was greeted by a ruined house, slaughtered horses, and an exceedingly dead lover. And some Orcs. And Sauron. He smiled at me as I stood there in shocked silence and said, 'Ah, you must be Quenture Sindarusce. I always knew you'd come in handy some day. Come along, please.' I wouldn't have come, had the Orcs not overpowered me and tied me up, then set me on that great black horse and led me to Mordor, where I, as I believe I said before, have just come from.   
"My job was a simple one-using the horse I'd taken from Rohan and other fine black horses, also stolen from Rohan by raiding Orcs, I was to train them for violence and corruption and pure evil. Unfortunately, I enjoyed my work. I did not enjoy my living quarters, and I did not enjoy staving off Orcs day and night, but I enjoyed my work. The animals were beautiful, and they were equally beautiful when they were made totally evil by my careful training and breeding. I never knew exactly what Sauron wanted the horses for, but I knew they were important. He came one day to check on my work, only the second time I'd ever seen him, and declared the creatures fit. The breeding was just taken over by Orcs and thralls, then. I'm sure you are familiar enough with their true use. Then Sauron bade me come with him.  
"It really doesn't work, though, me as a foil for evil, since I'm evil myself, I think...I don't know. "   
Quenture stretched and patted Yulme. "I'm coming to the end now, I promise. I need to tell you the end of my story, or the end thus far. My motivation, you could say. Like I said, I came to Sauron because I had nothing better to do, because the evil in me had become accustomed to having evil around me. I stayed on as his consort because something in me that wasn't evil made me stay. I hated him, I really did, but I didn't only stay for the evil company. I stayed to hear everything I could possibly hear, and learn everything I could possibly learn.   
"And when I felt that I had done that, and could serve no useful purpose to anyone but Sauron if I stayed longer, I left. I went down to the stables that held my creations and I took a horse that hadn't made the cut, a horse that had been bred from a line of evil, but it just hadn't taken. It happened, once in a while. Some horses are just nice, I guess...anyway, I took one that was being saved for Saturday's Orc Stew and named him Galen, and off we went. The conceited old fool didn't keep me with locks or spells, he thought I stayed for the pleasure of his company. Yulme was a present from Sauron on my birthday some three years ago, a pretty kitten he conjured up for his bored elven princess...He was my only salvation, weren't you, darling? That was so long ago, though.   
"That was so long ago, though. There has been a great triumph for good now, since the War of the Rings... still, I live every day in fear that evil will come again for me, to collect its dues."  
Toketee sat silently on Chevaux, not knowing what to say or how to respond. Though from the first moment she had met Quenture, she had sensed something peculiar about her, she hadn't even begun to think about how deep Quenture's past could actually reach. It was mind-boggling to think really.  
"I think-" she began, "I think you would not be evil, if consciously you chose not to be.   
  
"For like the winds of the sea  
Are the ways of fate   
As we voyage along through life.  
'Tis the set of the soul  
That decides the goal,   
And not the calm or strife."  
  
"If you really desire to be righteous, when you think you have been called to be evil- choose life- always, choose life. You cannot change yesterday. Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes- the power to err or live is in your hands." Then knowing what she must do, Toketee called Chevaux to a halt with a soft word, dismounted, and approached Quenture. She placed a warm hand on her knee and looked up into Quenture's eyes. "As long as I may, if you will have it, I will help you Quenture. I offer you my friendship, and my trust."  
Quenture squeezed Toketee's hand, her eyes full of tears. "Oh, Toketee, I can still feel the kiss of Melkor. Some days the evil rushing in my veins, wakened by him, is all I want to feel. Please, help me, and be my friend. I will treasure these gifts of yours with all my heart, and you have my trust and friendship in return." She smiled wanly and said, "It has been a long time since I had a true friend."  
  
"O who will walk a mile with me,  
Along Life's merry way?  
A comrade blithe and full of glee,  
Who dares to laugh out loud and free,  
And let his frolic fancy play,  
Like a happy child, through the flowers gay.  
That fill the field and fringe the way  
Where he walks a mile with me.  
  
And who, will walk a mile with me  
Along Life's weary way?  
A friend whose heart has eyes to see  
The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea,  
And the quiet rest at the end of the day-  
A friend who knows, and dares to say,  
The brave, sweet words that cheer the way  
Where he walks a mile with me.  
  
With such a comerade, such a friend,  
I fain would walk till journy's end,  
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,  
And then- Farewell, we shall meet again."  
  
Toketee smiled up at Quenture.  
"I will walk to the journey's end with you- if it may be permitted. Though life is uncertain, and the way grow dim, I will surely stay." Toketee broke away from Quenture and leapt lightly onto Chevaux once again. "Come now friend. Let us go down to Halfirien. I promised Chevaux some oats, and I always keep my promises." She said with a smile, and lead the way down the western road to the town.   
Quenture smiled, enjoying the cheer and singing of Toketee. "You're so right! Let's go!"   



	3. Halifirien

Disclaimer: See chapter Two  
  
Chapter Three  
Halifirien  
  
As dusk fell, Toketee and Quenture arrived in the village of Halifirien. Toketee showed Quenture the inn where she generally stayed, but explained the fact that she generally slept out in the stable with Chevaux, rather than inside the inn itself. She would dine inside with Quenture, and hang around for the evening's rumpus, then eventually retire to the stable.  
"I'd rather not be away from Chevaux, even for a night. He's rather excitable, especially after today. Beside the fact that it's rather a tradition of sorts for me to sleep in the stable, and it makes for a lower bill. Also makes leaving in the morning simpler." She told Quenture as the stable hand came out to take the animals away.  
"It's alright lad." she told him. "We shall tend our own creatures."  
"Aye, 'tis you again, Toketee. Your usual stall is free. Have you a friend with you tonight? And where will she sleep?"  
"Is that truly your concern, Rael?" Toketee asked rhetorically.  
"No, suppose it's not. Good evening miss." Rael turned and made his way back into the stable.  
Toketee followed him a few steps, and waited for Quenture to catch up.  
Quenture stood in the stall next to Toketee, and they both took care of their horses for the night.  
"I think I'll stay in the inn, Toketee. Nothing to do with you, just that I'm very weary and in need of a true bed. Besides, "she said, grinning mischeviously, "I like rowdy taverns. Keeps me alert."  
They were quiet for a moment, then she said, "Toketee, were you born in this village? If so, why do we not stay with your parents and kin?"   
Toketee was quiet as she pondered how to answer Qunture's question. "I was not born in Halifirien." She began slowly, uncertain what to say next. 'She was honest with me,' she told herself, 'Cannot I also do the same?' She bit her lip and gave Chevaux a firm stroke with the currycomb. He whickered to let her know she was just a little too firm. "Sorry old boy," she murmured, patting him absent-mindedly on the wither.  
"My parents and kin live in Mirkwood, and I was born there." She told Quenture. "They are there, and I am here. It is the best way for us."  
She turned away from Quenture to attend to Chevaux's feeding, for the hay and water were already gone, though she had filled both troughs when she had first brought the horse in. Shaking her head she left the stall and went into the tack room to see where Rael had now hidden the oats.   
Quenture said to Toketee, "Can you get some oats for Galen, too?" She continued speaking to her, hoping she was not being rude, and said, "I know someone from Mirkwood. Prince Greenwood, in fact. Do you know him?"   
Toketee rushed back into Chevaux's stall, finding the oats long forgotten. "You know Legolas?! Please, can you tell me where he is?" She blurted out, not thinking of the consequences her sudden outburst might create.  
Pleadingly, she held Quenture's gaze, silently begging to hear that Legolas might be nearby- yet, almost hoping that he wasn't.   
Quenture arched one eyebrow at Toketee. She fought back the urge to smile at her--she'd only just won back Toketee's trust, and didn't want to upset her by laughing at her. Still, there was something in Toketee's eyes that suggested that she was not simply enamored with the handsome Silvan prince...it seemed more important, somehow, than a crush.  
"Well, yes, the last time I spoke to him he was in the Entwood, travelling with Gimli the Dwarf. He looked to be staying there for some time, hardly surprising, as the years of elves are countless and the years of dwarves are long in the eyes of men. Did you need to find him for something?"   
"I've already been through the Entwood! I could not find him there!" Frustrated, Toketee sighed and slumped against the doorframe. "How long ago was that? Perhaps I was there before him." She asked quietly, stirring the hay with her toe. She hoped Quenture wouldn't remember having asked why she wanted Legolas, she certainly didn't want to have to answer that one.   
Quenture frowned. Toketee was certainly worked up about this. "I happen to know that he is currently in the Entwood. I'll take you to him, if you like, but only if you tell me fully and honestly--why do you need to find him? I like that man, and he deserves the rest he is now enjoying, and I would sooner die than bring trouble or pain to him. And if you tell me a lie, and I take you to him and find out otherwise, I will exact punishment on you."   
She smiled at Toketee. "I don't mean to sound cruel, just serious, dear. Tell me. You can trust me."   
Sighing again, Toketee shook her head. Regaining at least most of her composure, she looked up at Quenture and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry. I have run away from myself again. I simply have not seen him in so long... One misses a brother when he is absent, you know." Singing softly to keep Quenture from asking any more ticklish questions, Toketee again went to find the oats.  
  
"It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of bird's cries;   
I never hear the west wind, but tears are in my eyes.   
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills,   
And April's in the west wind and daffodils.   
It's a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine.   
Apple orchards blossom there, and the air is like wine.   
There is cool grass there, where men may lie at rest,   
The thrushes are in song there, flutering from the nest.   
'Will you not come home brother? you have been long away.   
It's April and blossom time, and white is the spray;   
Bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain-   
Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?"   
  
Quenture narrowed her eyes at Toketee and laughed. "Well then, if he is literally your brother, we are but two Elven princesses travelling together in such a state."  
She paused for a moment, thinking, then continued, "I suppose, Toketee, that whether I believe you or not, Legolas and I could handle any trouble you feel like throwing at him...so if you'd like, I'll take you to see him....and I won't ask any more questions, if that's how you'd have it, although it puts myself and my history at a distinct disadvantage to you..."   
With a smile and a nod of her head, Toketee left Quenture to find the oats. Returning a moment later, she filled Galen and Chevaux's troughs and motioned for Quenture to follow her to the inn.   
Quenture followed Toketee into the inn, bemused and curious...the girl was an odd one, but sweet...and she seemed to really need to find Legolas...   
  
Another disclaimer: Legolas is property of J.R.R. Tolkien. And, is the current plan for Legolas and Gimli to actually be in this story at some point.  



	4. Minas Tirith

Disclaimer: Cordelia and Kristian are mine. Isarak and Tarak belong to Isarak2001. Any recognizable characters mentioned belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  
Chapter Four  
Minas Tirith.  
  
Cordelia stood by the city wall, looking out over the Pallenor Fields. It was early evening and she had slipped away from her house to have some time to think. She did this most evenings.  
She was so lost in thought that she did not hear her cousin come up behind her.  
"Corey," came the voice from nearby. Cordelia turned around, to see Kristian standing behind her.  
"What is it, Kristian?" she asked.  
"Aunt Una sent me to find you. You shouldn't be out by yourself."  
"Why?" Cordelia asked.  
"Just do as I ask and come back to the house," Kristian said.  
She turned away from the walls, and was about to follow him back to the house, when they became aware that someone else was nearby.   
  
Isarak came out of his studies mumbling about being pulled away from his work. He was to go to the tower and meet with the king to discuss some "Important" matters. Hoping not to be seen, as people were always ready to ask of him his opinion on /something/. Skirting around the various buildings that lined the street and the city wall, he found that he approached a young couple. He ducked quickly between two houses, but was too late, they had already seen him. "Blast! Always people to intercept me!"   
"Who was that?" Cordelia whispered, as the man ducked out of sight.  
"He's a scholar, I think," Kristian replied. "I think he advises the king. We should see if he needs help."  
Cordelia did not reply. Something about that man made her slightly uneasy.  
Ignoring his cousin's hesitation, Kristian addressed the man. "Do you need help, sir?"   
"Drat, I am indeed caught this time" the old man muttered under his breath." Coming out again and straightening his back, he spoke to them directly. "Ah no, I am fine, I am on my way to the King, as he asks of my service. I choose the most circuitous ways so as not to be caught by people asking for my advice." He winked and chuckled slightly.   
"Sorry to have troubled you, sir," Cordelia said, speaking for the first time. "We'll be on our way and let you be on yours." She was in a hurry to get away from this strange man, and turned to walk off.  
Kristian hesitated for a moment, debating whether to say anything else to Isarak.   
Isarak smiled at the girl and then bowed as low as he could. "Thank you, and good evening Cordelia."  
Slowly he began walking away.  
Kristian watched as Isarak walked away, then turned and followed Cordelia back to the house.   
  
After seeing Cordelia back to the house, Kristian went back out into the city. He had been in the guard for almost a year now, and he was in danger of being late, tonight, because of the time he had spent going after Cordelia.  
Kris finally reached the guardroom, a few minutes late. Most of the guards were gone, on duty already, except for one, who was probably waiting for him to get there.   
The lone guard stepped forward. "Kristian, why are you late? You /know/ what is expected of you, so why have you let me down /again/? You see the others have already left for duty." Tarak stared down his nose at Kris rather sternly, arms folded across his chest. Because of your absence anything could have happened, you /know/ the importance of your position! Now get going and don't let me catch you late again! Tarak grumbled as he left the guardhouse. "Why do they always snub me?"   
Kris watched Tarak leave. 'Got a bit of a high opinion of yourself don't you,' he thought, turning to go to his position.  
Kris stood at the wall, not far from where he had found Cordelia earlier, thinking about the encounters that evening. He knew that Cordelia had been useasy around Isarak, and he seemed to remember hearing that Isarak and Tarak had some kind of association. He didn't know what it was, but maybe if he saw the other guard later that night, he would ask him if something was going on with Isarak.   
  
Tarak walked quickly to his quarters in the fifth circle, where he lived with the king's advisor, Isarak. Isarak had been his tutor when Tarak was a boy. Now Tarak shared his quarters with his old teacher. Tarak was going to take leave of the city for the next couple of weeks to work in one of the tributary cities of Gondor.  



	5. Unanswered Questions

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.  
  
Chapter Five  
Unanswered Questions  
  
In the two years since she had met Elrelad, Lothiniel's situation had changed very little. She still did not get along with her father, as he still would not tell her what she wanted to know. Plus, she had still heard a few rumors of another evil, but no location was ever included in those rumors.  
Finally, one morning, while her father was out taking care of something that he would not tell her about, she packed a bag with what she felt she would need for a journey, and slipped out, heading towards the Road. She planned to go to Minas Tirith, thinking that would be a good place to gain information.  
  
Isarak walked to his small quarters in the fifth circle of the city, instead of returning to the library. He needed a break maybe from his counsels, he would go on a little vacation. He searched through his many stacks of books -which hardly looked any different than the city library-for an old longtime favorite, "The Palantiri." It would make for a good travel book. Grabbing up a few things he would need for the journey; a walking stick, and a fairly good sized leather pouch for his books, as well as his curious blue stone, which he had neglected to put on this day.  
He then promptly headed out the door.   
  
Several days later he was within sight of the Forest of Fangorn. Here many of history's great men, Isarak's predecessors, had walked in these very woods. Gandalf the Wise, Sauruman the White -who had later been discovered as a traitor- Isarak and Sauruman were very similar in ways, only Isarak was smarter than the Former great counselor. Isarak had not betrayed the world to Sauron. There was Elrond, ah yes, and Treebeard. These were the great men -good and evil- of the past.   
Coming now into the woods, a sense of eerie watchfulness crept over the old man. He shrugged it off and continued walking. He knew these woods well enough to not be frightened by them.   
The next day as Isarak had continued his walking on through the night and into the daytime again. He saw a young Elven girl walking at a leisurely pace, though she seemed somewhat heavy of heart. Isarak stopped and waited.   
  
Lothiniel had been traveling for several days before reaching Fangorn. For the first few days she had rejoiced a being out in the world on her own. She was actually seeing things that her father would never have told her about. After several years, she was free.  
Of course, she was also lonely. She occasionally saw other travelers on the road, but did not talk to any of them for very long. Part of her had hoped to see Elrelad, as he was the only person she had ever really talked to, but she didn't think that would happen. After all, what where the chances that he would leave Mirkwood at the same time she had. Plus, he had probably forgotten all about her in the two years since they had met.  
So it was that she reached Fangorn, and encountered a strange old man. She looked at this man curiously, never having seen anyone like him. The man had long, white hair, that did seem well taken care of. He was stooped over, like one who had spent much time in study, and his pale skin indicated that. Of course, she did not know the reason for any of those things about his appearance, they were only her impressions.  
He was watching her, so she approached him. "Hello, sir," she said, shyly, then paused, unsure of what to say next.   
Isarak looked at the girl for a long while after she had spoken, there was something different about this one. She was innocent, unlearned. "Come child, speak with me, your voice is so fair upon my ear." he crooned softly in the Sindarin tongue, guessing that she was indeed one of the Sindarin Elves from Mirkwood. "I see from your eyes you are troubled. Come, come, do not be afraid. This old bag of bones won't bite you!" Isarak chuckled, I am only a withered old man of the city, long years I have spent in study, and have counseled the Great King of Middle Earth these past few years. Yes, come and I will impart my knowledge upon you, and you knowing these great things will be relieved, and shall find what you so seek." Isarak outstretched his hand from his side smiling and turned to show the fair maiden a large smooth stone, much like a bench, though it did not seem like it had been there before.   
Lothiniel tried to hide her surprise at the sudden appearance of the stone, but her eyes still showed a small hint. "I thank you for the kind words, sir," she said, "but I doubt you could give me the knowledge I most strongly desire."  
"Ah child, do no not doubt a man's wealth of knowledge before you have seen it's power! Come, sit down, ask me anything you like." Isarak spoke to Lothiniel cheerily, by his manner it could be assumed that he would bubble over with laughter at any given moment.   
Lothiniel sat down, but did not speak immediately. She seemed to be thinking. After a few minutes, she said, "The knowledge I most desire is about my mother. She has been kept a secret from me for as long as I remember. My father told me she died when I was little, but he won't say how."  
Isarak's smile changed with a curving of the mouth that would give the impression of adisappointed frown.   
"Ah yes, I see. And why would your father hide these things from you child?"  
"I do not know. I have asked him about her before, but he will not tell me anything. And a friend of mine also thought that it was strange. That he doesn't tell me, I mean. I don't even know my mother's name."  
"Where are you from child, for I alone of thousands of people, have taken the time to study the records of birth, and of lineage. Books are what I desire most, knowledge, is the key to my life. I thirst for wisdom, I may very well have that which you desire; the knowledge of your mother." Israk's face straightened somewhat, though there seemed to be something now troubling his mind.  
Lothiniel hesitated briefly. "I'm from Mirkwood, I guess. It's the only place I can remember living. My father's name is Nithrar."  
"Nithrar? Hmm... yes Nithrar of Mirkwood... I know your parents child, or should I say, I knew them. Your mother was a dear friend of mine."   
"She was?" Lothiniel asked, surprised. "can you tell me about her?" She could not believe that after so long, she was finally being offered knowledge ofher mother.  
Isarak's face again brightened. "Though I have not seen either of your parents for many a year. Yes I will tell you all that I know"   
"What was her name?" Lothiniel asked, after a few moments, desiring to know at last what her mother's name was. Even that information had been kept from her all her life.  
Isarak thought for a moment, recalling those early days. "Yes, she was my dear friend until she was cursed, then she ran away. What a pity!" he thought to himself. "Renia Alcar, Glorious Light." He smiled as he recollected the meaning of the name, it was not the full meaning, but he thought it best not to disclose more than he had.  
"Renia." At last she had a name for her mother. But she still didn't know anything else about her. "What was she like?" she asked. And why did I never know her? she thought to herself.  
"Your mother was a dear woman, this world does not deserve one of such beauty, both of the soul and the physical appearance. She was kind, and she was fair. Only the dark lord and his minions would be turned away from her door. Perhaps that is how I came to know here, as I was traveling throught Mirkwood years ago, -before I had gained such knowledge as I have now- I strayed from the path, and was attacked by the evil black spiders, and had it not been for the grace and valor of your parents, I would not be her speaking with you today." Isarak smiled again.  
Lothiniel returned Isarak's smiled. "So she was nice. I wish I could have known her. Maybe she would have cared for me more than my father seems to sometimes."  
"Yes, she might have, though your father is a great man in his own right."  
"I have a hard time agreeing with that. He doesn't care about me. He thinks I can't take care of myself, and I can. I'm not a child anymore."  
"Maybe your father is not the man I once knew, maybe his heart has hardened. Who is to say? Certainly not I"  
"What was he like when you knew him?"  
"He was kind, loving of his family, but careful for their protection. He saved my life in the risking of his own. For that I admire him." Isarak's face grew serious, and stern. "But something seemed to trouble him, though I know not now what it was"  
"His family. I guess you mean my older brother and sister, right?"  
"And your mother, I believe you were yet several months from birth at the time I last saw your parents."   
"Oh. My mother died soon after that I guess. Do you know how she died?"  
Isarak was aghast "Oh no child, I did not think your mother had died, indeed, I thought she was still with your father until I spoke with you."  
"Oh. Well, my father told me that she had died." Lothiniel was silent for a while. "Was she from Mirkwood, as well, like my father seems to have been?"  
"No, your mother was from a far richer place, Lorien, though it is not far from the Mirkwood. Before Lorien I do not know, she very well could have come from the Blessed Realm of Aman itself!"  
"She was from Lorien?" Lothiniel whispered, an idea coming to her, to go to Lorien, and see the land her mother had come from, just to see what it looked like. Maybe, that would make her feel closer to the mother she had never known.  
"Perhaps you would like to come with me to Minas Tirith, where I reside as a counselor to the king. I have acess to the great library there, and you could search through those great books to learn more of the things you desire to know.   
"I can see your thirst for knowledge, but also your will to fight. You may not become bent over from study as I have, but you will become powerful with wisdom. You will succeed in whatever you do." Isarak thought for a moment before continuing. "Then maybe you shall like to go to the land of your heritage?"  
"I would like to accompany you to Minas Tirith," Lothiniel said after a few moments. "And then I will go to Lorien, after I have learned more, if you will teach what you feel I should know."  
Isarak smiled broadly. "Yes that would be wonderful, then I shall not be alone forever in my studies, with no one to share my knowledge with, yes I must have an apprentice for a time!"  
"I think I'd like to be your apprentice," Lothiniel said. "My mother knew you, so maybe she would approve as well."  
Isarak stood and smiled. "Come then Lothiniel, my vacation was to be much longer, but I can pass it up for teaching and studying."  
"Thank you sir," Lothiniel said. Then, after a few moments, she asked, "If you're going to be my master, what should I call you?"  
"You may call me Isarak, and I will be greatful!"   
"Oh. Well, Isarak, I guess we should go, then?"  
Isarak stood slowly, his back straightening, and each rib stacking upon the other.   
Then grabbing up his walking stick he walked a few paces and turned. "Yes let us be on our way, the library is calling my name, as it does whenever I leave it's presence for more than a single passing of the sun."  
Lothiniel laughed at the image of the library calling Isarak's name.  
Isarak held out his arm and bent it at the elbow in a gesture for Lothiniel to slip her arm through and they would begin their journey to the great city.   
Lothiniel took Isarak's arm, smiling as she did so. She couldn't remember feeling this at ease around anyone since she had met Elrelad.  
As they strode, if Lothiniel had looked back, she would have noticed that the stones they had sat upon were missing.   
"Where did the stones go?" she asked, surprised.  
Isarak did not seem to notice her question, rather he turned her attention to sounds of two men speaking joyfully together in the common tongue. "It is not often that there are other people in these woods. These are strange times I think. The Ents have opened their borders it seems. Or perhaps this is just a coincidal day of mystery and joy."  
Lothiniel also thought she heard people speaking, but did not comment. She knew nothing about Fangorn, so it did not surprise her that there were others there.  
  
Author's note: If you're reading this, please review. I want to know what people think of the story.  



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